


Blackhearted Sweetheart

by AlexaMondragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Deadlock Boss McCree, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, Excessive use of drugs, Heavy Bondage, Humiliation, In his supposedly Blackwatch days, Lacroix and McCree friendship, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, McCree has anger issues, Memory Loss, No Widowmaker, OMC - Freeform, Physical Abuse, Rape, Slow Burn, Still Son of a Yakuza Hanzo, Weapons builder McCree, Yeah he makes GUNS!!, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young McCree, more tags added later, they have a dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11460420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexaMondragon/pseuds/AlexaMondragon
Summary: After being taken into Deadlock after his parents death, he wants nothing more than vengeance and compensation in blood. Hanzo is an unwilling participant in his grand scheme of things.





	1. Chapter 1

OoOoOoOoOoO

 

Jesse opens his eyes in a dark room and felt his fingers twitch minutely to the gun under his pillow. He strains his hearing to the dark room around him and hears a miniscule shuffling close to where he’s sleeping, which is a vast sofa dead centre in the spacious living room. He focuses on the swishing sound and realizes that the sound is coming closer. He slowly slides his hand under his pillow and takes hold of his gun. The handle fits in his calloused hand and the cool metal bites his skin, but he ignores it. He takes in a deep breath and calms his mind. The soft padding sound is now right beside his bed.

Quick as lighting, after years of being the target of too many assassination attempts, he draws his gun but didn’t see the intruder. He looks down when a grumpy woof is heard and groans when a heavy weight settles onto him so very suddenly. He grunts out a bit when the heavy weight sits on his chest. He’s too tired for this.

Just as he thought of that, the old dog starts to slobber him with saliva.

He sputters and spits, pushing the mutt’s muzzle away from his face.

“AMELIE!!!” He yells that 8 a.m in the morning.

Just then, his penthouse elevator door open and in walks the woman that’s guilty of bringing the saliva monster to him. She saunters over to him with an innocent smile. It scares him when she puts that smile on her face. Her skin pale still, but not as deathly as when he first saved her. Her hair still shines a bit of violet hue in the morning ray and she’s wearing one of his favourite red flannels, too big on her person and covers only until the top of her thighs. He glares at her in annoyance as she proceeds to climb on the sofa and settles on top of him and pulls his right arm under her to wrap it around her waist. She tucks her head under his chin as she snuggles to him; the dog turns his attention to her and snuggles to her chest.

“Don’t be mad at Gerard. He only misses you.” Her French accent came out strong, seems like she just woke up herself.

“Pfft, he only misses me ‘cause I keep on sneakin’ ‘im snacks.” He deadpans.

“Your own fault then.” She smiles as her eyes starts to droop in sleepiness.

“Ahh hush up and go to sleep.” He grumbles, eyes tired and body exhausted from the trip back from Germany.

A soft hum is her response and her breathing smoothes out, indicating that she already sleeps. He sighs, running his fingers in her loose hair and was about to get some shut eye when a ding from the elevator is heard.

The door opens to an older Japanese man and he bows to Jesse.

“It’s good that you’ve returned safe, Young Ma-“He was cut off when Jesse holds up his finger.

“I mean, Mr. Eastwood.” He smiles and rolls his eyes when McCree smiles a bit smug. He clears his throat and starts to make his way to the penthouse’s kitchen, preparing his coffee and breakfast for the others.

“I take it that the meet up went well?” He asks, pausing from wearing a plain white apron to look at Jesse and he’s got a sheepish smile in return. He sighs in exasperation, he knows what it means.

“Did you at least dispose of the body?” He inquires, hands on his hips as he stares Jesse down.

“I did! I just thought that he’ll make things easier and just goddamn agree. I think I’m banned from Germany now.” He huffs indignantly, his mouth in a pout.

“Any witnesses?” He starts to make a pancake batter, mixing the ingredients in a large bowl. His eyes and focus are on the task at hand but his mind is still on trying to pry the information from the gunslinger.

“Nope. I’m better than that.” He yawns out. He needs to shave again, his stubble is getting out of hand. But if he’s to beat his competitors, he _needs_ to let it grow. But it’s just itching him right now!

“How’s here been doin’, might I ask?” He slowly raises himself just to lean against the armrest. He removes his arm from under Amelie and she growls in annoyance but otherwise doesn’t wake. He runs his fingers lightly on her hair and her face softens again.

“Everything has been doing fine, Amelie had a bit of trouble in her memories and her, dare I say it, ‘heart reactor’,” He makes an air quote with his free hand, “…is acting up again. But a little fix and meds did wonders to her.” He flips a pancake and stacks them on a couple of plates.

“I need to check up on that.” He mumbles to himself, his mind already on the schematics of her artificial heart and trying to identify the problem that would cause it to act up again. When he zones out, Norio is already setting up the breakfast table and as he pours the dog food in the doggy bowl, said dog wakes up instantly and jumps off of McCree. Stepping on Jesse’s abdomen and he oofs in slight pain. He glares at the dog lightly and Amelie stirs awake next to him. He gently shakes her awake and she sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Well, good mornin’ there, Charlotte.” He snickers when she throws an icy glare at him.

“Someone is going to die this morning, and that someone wears a ridiculous cowboy hat.” She growls out, her hand already reaching for his throat.

“Now, hold up… Don’t bite the hand that feeds ya! Amelie, no.” He raises his hands in mock surrender and he smiles unsurely.

“Amelie yes.” She hisses.

“Now, Miss Lacroix, I have prepared pancakes and as much as you would like to, as you say, ‘hand his ass over in a silver platter’, I would very much appreciate it if you do it after breakfast.” He finishes setting up the breakfast table, the dog already started eating.

She lits up a bit when the smell of pancakes wafts into her nose and she slides off of Jesse and pads over to the table, smile widening as she regards Norio like he’s an angel.

“What did he do to deserve you, Norio?” She asks as she regards the full breakfast table in awe. She raises her glass of orange juice to him in mock salute and he lightly bows his head to her. Jesse gets up from the sofa and makes his way over to them. He nods his thanks as Norio hands him his morning coffee and takes a light sip before humming in appreciation. Norio had always known his coffee preference.

Amelie starts of her breakfast with a stacked pancakes and swipes a few strawberries from the bowl near her. Jesse takes a couple of bacons and eggs, his glass of orange juice next to his left arm.

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder who takes care of who here.” He muses out loud as he checks his pad while simultaneously reads the daily news on it.

“I wonder too, Jesse-san.” Norio muses, his mug of steaming tea in front of him. His plate consisting of a couple of pancakes and two bacons.

“Any troubles with Overwatch lately?” He sips his coffee and takes a bite out of his bacon after. The news stating that Overwatch just busted another attempted robbery. He sees a familiar face in the background; his eyes widen momentarily and continue to read the rest of the news.

“Not any that I know of, Jesse-san.” He replies, he sneaks a couple of bacons under the table to feed the old dog. Jesse knows that they’re all just spoiling the old coot, despite the doctor’s order, but they couldn’t help it. Gerard has been with them from when he brought in Amelie. He found her when Talon practically abandoned her after an attempt at his life; she was having a panic attack from what he could see. Her breaths coming out short and erratic, her eyes unfocused and panicking. He wanted so bad to put an end to her misery, his revolver already cocked and aimed directly at her head, but … he couldn’t when she started to sob pathetically. So he took her in, checked up on her and found out that she has heart problems, and that her heart was slowly decaying. He built her a new heart, and he didn’t know why, but she just woke up one morning confused and different from the heartless, cold, tongue-like-a-whip, sniper. Her bark is just as bad as her bite though.

When he asks what she _does_ remember, she replies that her name is Amelie Lacroix and that she knows someone of the name Gerard. That was nearly two years ago. Every now and then she would regain bits and pieces of her memory, like when she remembered the man named Reyes. He curses that she knew that bastard. He’s been on his tail since his name came out, not publicly, but being a leader of a big and successful mafia group makes you known in the black market. Hell, his head alone is a cruise ship with an indoor jacuzzi. He doesn’t want to know what they’ll do if they caught him alive.

It was hard for her to adjust living with him. Mostly because she thought that he kidnapped her and wanted to use her as some kind of whore, which he later exclaims that he does no such thing, then she thought he wanted to use her as a mistress, who still uses that term? When he told her that he swings the other way, she just sighs is relief, stating that she can do better than a cowboy with a poncho, which he later whines, saying it’s a serape.

“Then what do you want me for, cowboy?” She asked that night, facing the glass wall, staring over the city below, her skin deathly white then, and her expression lost and longing for things she can’t recall. People whose names she can’t remember and a life she can’t return to.

“I think I just got a bit lonely ‘ere at the top ‘o the world.” He responded, his eyes over the twinkling city lights and his cigarillo unlit between his chapped and bleeding lips from when she punched him when he accidentally walked in on her in a towel earlier that day. She apologizes profusely afterwards. She couldn’t remember why her body started to move instinctively like that and it frightened her.

She tucks her legs under her, snuggling into the armchair that she dragged to the glass wall, and wraps her bathrobe tighter around her person. He walks to her when she seemed to dwell into memories on her mind that she can’t catch. The memories slipping through her thoughts like sands on a beach. He picks her up, she shows no resistance, and he places her on his lap. Her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulders and the other resting lightly on her hip. He wanted so bad to send her away when she woke up, her heart already replaced and her health seemed fine to him. But the look of fear and lost, similar to when he looked like when his parents were killed and Deadlock took him in.

“You don’t seem to mind the loneliness here, cowboy.” She whispers out, her voice the only sound in the dark living room, the rain starting to drip on the glass. The thunder rumbles in the far distance.

“I may not look it, but I’m lonelier than a ghost in these empty walls.” He murmurs, a deep sadness lacing in his voice, his arms tightening around her and his brows furrowing, creating a small wrinkle between it. His young face looking older in the shadows when he scowls like that. She reaches up and lightly runs her fingers at the fringes of his shaggy brown hair. He takes in a deep breath and slowly breathes out, relaxing the tense in his shoulders. When his previous boss recruited him, he was only around 13. Just a dumb kid that thought the world was at his feet. Thinking he could out beat anyone in a shooting challenge, and boy did he won plenty back then. His pa was a good and honest sheriff, the small town where he came from, they still use that ancient term, back home. The people admired his selflessness and easy going nature. He remembered when he showed him how to hold a gun correctly and taught him how to shoot. He remembered that they both enjoyed cliché cowboy movies. Some awful, some good.

His ma, well…she was an angel to both the McCree men. She was the one Jesse would run to when the bullies would pick on him for his petite frame. She was the one that sang to him soothing Spanish lullabies when he couldn’t sleep in stormy nights. She was the one that would pull his ear till it’s red when he misbehaves. She was the one that told him to hide in the basement when those men came their home. Her screams were what he remembered when they killed her, his pa tried to protect his family, he tried his hardest, but he ended up with a more than a few bullets on his person. Not a peep came from him all night long. That morning when he heard shuffling atop his head, his hope high, hope that his parents were alive shattered when more men came.

After they took him captive, he was presented to their boss. He didn’t know what his boss saw in him, but he took Jesse in and gave him a home, if that’s what you could call it. He took in Jesse as his disciple for when he’s gone. He taught Jesse a lot of things when in his care. Never raised a hand when he missed a shot, never yelled when he messed up in a small heist. When Jesse asks him one day when he was just 17, he told him that he was just repaying a favour and also that he wanted Jesse to kill the men that took his family away. Jesse did just that. He was only 19 when he first killed a person, but instead of just stopping, he went and took out the entire gang, with a team under his command. 

He was 25 when his caretaker asks him to pull the trigger on him. It was hard for him, to kill the man that became his father figure. Taught him how to use his newfound skills properly. Jesse found out about his Deadeye when he revealed that all McCree men possess them. He was hurt when he thought that he only wanted him as a weapon, but that hurt disappeared when he explained why he took Jesse in. But that’s a story for another time. 

“Well, you are not alone anymore, _Mon amie_.” She declares quietly. Her voice bringing him out from his memories back to the present, with Amelie smiling up at him and the pitter patter sound of the rain on glass.

“And I’m grateful fer that. Thanks, Charlotte.” She scowls at the nickname, but otherwise leaves it be.

He was brought back from his musing when Gerard places his head on Jesse’s lap. Amelie still eating pancakes that seems to have restocked on her plate and Norio sipping on his tea, eyebrow raised at Jesse’s direction. He waves off his concern and eats his breakfast. He slips his one of his bacon to Gerard.

“Heard anythin’ bout Blackwatch?” He swallows his breakfast and washes it down with coffee.

“Nothing as of now, Jesse. It seems that they’re letting you free reign for now.” He hums when he sees an interesting article in his newspaper. He prefers the paper rather than the tablet, saying that they could be reused again in the near future. Jesse only rolls his eyes at his recyclist friend.

“Did you bring me any gifts, Jesse?” Amelie asks from across the table, a stray maple syrup on the side of her mouth. He reaches forward with a napkin in hand and wipes it off for her. She smiles, pleased.

“I got some dark chocolates fer you and a pair of new gardenin’ gloves fer Norio and also a nice lookin’ pair of combat boots fer me.” He smiles triumphant like.

“I thought you like the cowboy boots I got for you.” She pulls out her bottom lip in a full pout and sags her shoulders, sniffling dramatically.

“Darlin’ don’t pull that frown on me! Makes me feel like I just stomped on a kitten.” He flails a bit in his seat. “I like the boots! Really I do, Darlin’. I just don’t want them ta get more dirt and blood than necessary.” He smiles lopsided when she seems to brighten at the statement.

“There’s that million dollar smile.” He gushes and she throws a pancake in his face. He peels it off his face, “And there’s the Amelie I know and love.” And feeds the pancake to Gerard. He still needs to check over her and interrogate a certain subordinate. But he’ll enjoy his first day back in the states with good breakfast and with people that he cares for. He doesn’t want to ruin a good morning after all.

 

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse leaves for the gym after breakfast, he needs to run off the extra weight he gathered when he was in Germany. Staying at that five-star hotel was amazing, but he knows from certain annoying accomplices and French free-loader, that he tends to laze around too often and he takes advantages to offered hotel rooms that were _paid_ _for_ him, no he doesn’t flounder his money around, Amelie! He couldn’t help himself if the food is free and a comfy king size bed is just too good to pass up. Not that that he didn’t like his bed, but he couldn’t even squeeze himself in when two of the most annoying housemates take over the entire thing, and he’s getting real tired of dog drool on his pillow.

 

He could hear Gerard running after him, the old mutt catching up next to him and Jesse enters the gym. He removes his black button down and leaving the tank top on. He went to the treadmill and starts a slow jog. A good amount of sweat was starting to form on his forehead after an hour and he could feel the material of his clothing start to stick to his skin. Before he could take a break, his phone buzzes in his pocket and he picks it up, without looking at the ID contact.

 

“Hello.” He pants.

 

“Please don’t tell me I called in a bad time.” The voice on the other end joked and Jesse huffs a low laugh. But the English is familiar and McCree looks around the gym to spot him, already knowing that he’s within the building.

 

“Naw, was just finished runnin’ on the treadmill. What can I do fer ya, Matt?”

 

“Come bring that toned body of yours to the window.” The voice goaded and Jesse walks to the giant glass wall that acts like a giant window to anyone, even to him, and peers down to see a figure in a fitting body suit with his hands seeming to stick to the glass one floor down. He waves at Jesse and he gives a lazy salute to the other man. He ends the call then and he gestures for him to come in and the other man opens the window and climbs right in on that floor.

 

Jesse wears his black button down back and whistles for the dog to follow. He exits the gym and practically runs downstairs to the living room. Barefoot since he couldn’t be bothered to wear his sport shoes.

 

He turns a corner and sees his friend making himself comfortable on the sofa and a glass of bourbon in one hand. Body suit in a pile on the floor next to his feet, now he’s in a white button up with the sleeves folded up to his elbows. He raise the glass to McCree and he chuckles, striding to him.

 

“Finally, I thought I was going to help you break out of German prison.”

 

He stands up and opens his arms to accept the hug.

 

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it cowboy?” Matthew whispers, his smile big and his arms tighten around McCree.

 

When they finally part, he pats the others arm rather roughly. “Ha! Finally deciding to grow a beard, eh? Word of advice, you can’t beat Yasha’s.” He stage whispers, his grin teasing and eyes twinkling with mischievousness that’s rare amongst men in their occupation, with what they do for a living it makes sense that you shouldn’t show even a sliver of yourself in the open. False smiles and exaggerated bravado is what keeps them alive and breathing.

 

It’s what keeps you running.

 

Jesse punches his arm playfully and the other sighs rather longingly.

 

“How’s _he_? Have you heard anything from him lately?” He prods gently, knowing that the subject is a little too raw to his friend but he has to know whether he’s getting better or not, the last time he left him to his own devices after a extravagant break-up, three doctors are involved and a titanium bar through his thigh. He doesn’t need a repeat of that night, not on one of his important accomplice. But he also needs to know whether this one will actually have to setback their agreements in their contract, again. They couldn’t afford another setback because of a failed romantic intercourse.

 

Their relationship wasn’t even supposed to happen, but with him overlooking it this time, thinking they wouldn’t hurt the other, well. Fool him once, shame on him.

 

Matthew snorts, “It’s not like I died when he left, and I’m fine. He’s doesn’t evolve around me.” His eyes relaxed and shoulders sagged, but McCree could see the way his brow twitches lightly and he drops the subject instantly.

 

“Any news on the British dogs?” He went to the mini bar on the far side of the room and pours a glass of bourbon. His friend picks up his abandoned glass on the coffee table and went to sit on a stool at the island.

 

“I’ve been hearing stories that they’re trying to get Overwatch to build another base there, I’m not so sure whether the story is true or not, but if they do, I might have to move my territory out of reach from their clutches.” He downs the bourbon in one swoop, he almost slams the glass on the island and thinks better of it and just sets it down softly.

 

“You’re welcome to stay ‘ere for a few weeks to cover your tracks, I mean, I owe you that much.” He drinks his liquor rather slowly to savor the taste and he rather likes the burn it gives when it passes down his throat.  

 

“Naah, it’ll make you their next target, they know that you ship your weapons into my country and they’re still trying to find some evidence that can expose you for your ‘criminal acts’.” He finishes with just a bite of sarcasm, but otherwise his smile widens when he sees McCree snorts into his glass.

 

“The only criminal thing I did, was forgettin’ to ask for that cute ass’s number, now that was simply illegal.” He finishes his drink and places the glass on the island. He holds up the bottle to him, indicating if he wants a refill.

 

“Good God, don’t tell me you’re still pining for that cheap bloke? I’m sure there’re other fishes in the sea.” He waves it off with a scoff.

 

“Ey, that cheap ‘bloke’, gives the best blow I’ve ever had in a lifetime.” He defended. His british brutally butchered with his southern drawl.

 

“Whatever.” He scoffs.

 

“How’s negotiating with the Shimada clan going?” He diverts the topic rather quickly and he looks at McCree expectantly. He sees the other man balls up his hand in a fist and his eyes turn sharp, the anger evident but he knows that he won’t direct his anger towards him. He’s been getting better with his anger issues since _him_ , but he knows it won’t last long. It’s practically a pipe dream that he doesn’t put a bullet in another’s head if they piss him off.

 

“They want to take control of 60% of my business and make _me_ their lap dog. Just what the fuck do they take me for?!” His snarl loud and the scowl on his face deep and ugly, his eyes burning with a rage that Matthew is surprised that his glass hasn’t-

 

A loud glass shattering before he could finish his thoughts. The shards digging into his palm and droplets of blood fall onto the island. He doesn’t seem to notice as he got this far away look in his eyes, probably thinking that he regretted not shooting the bastard when he had the chance.

 

“But they still need me, dammit. They ain’t gonna make it easier for me, but I know fer sure that that old bastard don’t have that many suns left in ‘im.”  He mutters angrily. He wipes the blood off the island and picks the tiny shards that buried in his skin out with careful fingers.

 

Matthew walks over with a kerchief ready and takes the Hispanic man’s hand and proceeds to wrap it tightly. “Watch yourself, your Italian is showing.” He smirks when Jesse snorts.

 

“I regret tellin’ ya ‘bout my roots.” He grunts, he nods at the other man in thanks and brings the hand to his chest, Matt following the movement fluidly; almost cradling it with his uninjured hand and hears Gerard trotting into the large kitchen and lies down next to Jesse’s feet.

 

“But the thing that I’m more pissed off about is how his son is too goddamn pretty to come from that old bastard.” He mutters, a pout could be heard in his tone. Eyes on the counter and scowl seeming to lighten up.

 

“Oh dear.” Matthew sighs in a, I’m-not-drunk-enough-for-this, manner and ties a knot when he finish wrapping up the hand. He knows that McCree has a soft spot for a pretty face, but ever since the last one that was supposed to be a simple one night stand, he thought that he could control himself better.

 

When McCree came out to the former top gun of Deadlock, he laughed and sighs in relief and said, “Thank the Lord Almighty, son. Otherwise I will be getting’ phone calls of prostitutes accusin’ ta be up the duff with yer supposed bairn.” His thick scott accent deep when he feels a strong relief and brief moments of joy.

 

And lord knows that the man simply has no time to play house when Deadlock was just rising from the slums. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll tolerate if he starts any form of attachment or relationship so early on. He would assign an escort whenever he goes to the city or any other country. That doesn’t warrant him being celibate.

 

Any sorts of attachment is forbidden in McCree’s book. And he eats up his former guardian’s words like a dog given water in a desert. He sticks to it. But lately, after a little incident, an attachment was fabricated when he saved Amelie Lacroix. Be it small and probably brief, he knows that McCree won’t give her up to Talon or Overwatch anytime soon.

 

Call him soft, but touch her and that damn dog, be sure you’re prepared to meet your maker.

 

“Then what are you goin’ to do about it?” Matthew cuts his line of thought and looks at him expectantly.

 

McCree gets this dangerous glint in his eye when something awful is brewed into his mind, his quirk little smile evidence that he’s already formulated a plan for this.

 

“I’m gonna strike ‘im where it hurts the most. Throw him down a peg or two. Would be fun for me and me.” He finishes cheekily and Matt rolls his eyes heavenward.

 

Then his phone rings from inside a drawer and McCree makes no haste to rummage through it and answers the call.

 

“Yasha, the Hell have you been up to?” He asks, tone not quite angry, but getting more towards annoyed. His huff of disappointment evidence of how he’s supposed to know that this is what he should’ve known what his right hand man would do.

 

“Look, I don’t care, just put the penguins back where you found them and come back to the States, I got a job fer ya.”

 

The gruff voice on the other line agrees half-heartedly and Matt can see a vein popping on his temple. He hides his little chuckle behind his hand.

McCree places the satellite phone on the counter and runs both his hands down his face. His fatigue clear.

 

“Where is that loveable polar bear now?” Matt chuckles out.

 

“He said he’s somewhere in Vancouver, transportin’ penguins.” He states rather flatly and Matt holds back his gasp of disbelief.

 

But, at the same time, he should’ve known Yasha would do such a thing.

 

“So, when do you think you’re going to execute this plan of yours?” He brings them back on track.

 

McCree looks at him, choosing his next words carefully. He runs a hand down his jaw and chin thoughtfully.

 

“I know for a certain that both his boys are very, _very_ well trained, and they use less bodyguards around them, which is plenty dumb I assure you. No matter how great ya think ya are, someone else is always, _always_ going to get the upper hand. That’s why I need Yasha and you, my retrieve dog and spymaster.” He smirks when Matt wrinkles his nose at the name.

 

“Yasha won’t like it if you keep calling him that.” He pointed out. Just when McCree was about to tell him off, the satellite phone rings again. He picks it up and Matt can hear the distinctive Russian.

 

“No…no, I would never!...” He cuts himself of brutally when the line went dead. He turns his glare at Matt.

 

“Not a word from yer posh, tea drinking mouth.” He grumbles. His points an accusing finger at Matt.

 

The Britt just shrugs, his smug grin showing shamelessly.  

 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he fishes it out, only to look at the screen and swipes it off. McCree knew better than to ask who’s calling. So he keeps his mouth shut.

 

He’s got other, bigger fish to fry and he needs his friend in a top notch condition and focused. He needs to ask Norio to set up the Cage before he brings his prize home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for leaving this piece at a cliffhanger, I just got overwhelmed with the amount of projects I still need to finish and other Au's I still need to end, but let it be known that I won't leave a story unfinished. My schedule is unpredictable, but I'll try my best.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this as often as I can. Leave a comment or not. Your choice. I just need some advice on how I did. Thankies.


End file.
